Distortions of the Past

I hate this. I hate having new knowledge that makes me have to review my memories.

I had a pleasant memory of playing with my father's ring while he wore it, cleaning the ring for him, of running my fingertips over the uneven surface of prongs over gem.

As the memory grew warmer, a new lens suddenly dropped in front of the view as I realized that ring was probably given to him by his mistress of 20+ years. So now, I'm wondering if my father appreciated the irony of his daughter liking his mistress's ring so much, if my father even saw the irony, if my father understood that because of his actions, my whole family has to review their memories from a different perspective.

Strange how we can live in denial all these years. My mother knew... as did my sister, and I. We all knew, but we didn't. And while he was alive, none of us felt the need to review memories. Why now? Why after the discovery... no, let's be truthful here. Why after the ACKNOWLEDGEMENT that there was a mistress, do we have to distort our memories?

For me, I think it was the realization that my father had this mistress while I was still living in his house, still back in Singapore. I doubt my sister remembers all the times Daddy had to lengthen his trips to Hong Kong and Taiwan. I don't think she remembers Mom making us go to the phone to beg Daddy to come home.

So much more makes sense now. But I'm not sure the clarity of blinders is worth the fuzziness of reality/truth.

Filed under Reveries & Paranoias and Bloodsport, err Relatives.